Suspect Motive
by Iona Nineve
Summary: What if Katrina's baby was a girl? What happened? Where are they? Who put them there? And why? A re-write of the later parts of season one under those circumstances. Begins before knowledge of Katrina's baby.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters**

**Author's Note: Thank you to red lightning who approached me with the original concept and worked as story consultant. Hope you enjoy. Feel free to comment.**

Suspect Motive

Chapter 1

Ichabod Crane strode through an overgrown, abandoned house. He had recently found the old home, his and Katrina's home, and he been surprised to find it still standing. Every day since, he has delved deeper into the ramshackle home, and the memories it contained.

His head swam with the recent revelations concerning the happenings surrounding his own death. The Horseman, their current enemy, was in actuality his old friend, Abraham. And Katrina, his purgatory bound wife, was to be the Horseman's prize.

Behind him stood a door, the very door which he had carried Katrina through after they had been wed. The room in which he stood had served as kitchen, informal dining room, and parlor. To the right a pair of doors led to the formal dining room, we'll light by a large west facing window; the brass chandelier still hung from a sagging ceiling, over a dusty water-stained oaken table. With every step a great plume of dust surrounded his boots like the smoke from a musket shot, the particles danced in the streams of light from the windows. To the left a central of the central room was a short hall way. On one side one of the two doors led to a small pantry; the other into his study, the sturdy desk surrounded by mostly empty bookcases. The shelves held a small number of artifacts which may prove helpful as well as a relatively small amount of ragged looking books, he had planned to send for others of his things after the revolution. Across the hall a single door opened into the master bedroom, though the ropes and mattress had rotted, the wooden frame had suffered little damage. Too few the happy nights he hand Katrina spent, wrapped in each other's arms, laying in that bad. He had walked through the home in reflective silence, the only noise was the dull thud of his boots on the floor boards. He was painfully aware of the empty bedrooms above him, which had been intended for the children they had planned to have. As the sun was setting, Crane sat on a straight back chair in the central room, a working oil lamp on the table beside him. He watched the ghosts of years past play in the shifting shadows of last light.

Sitting in this state of revory he became hungry, and wondered whether any canned preserves had lasted the centuries. The latch of the pantry had rusted locked, it took some fiddling and time to lessen it enough to be opened. The majority of the shelves still housed filled glass jars. Spotting a jar of strawberry preserve on an upper shelf directly before him, he stepped forward. The dull thud that had accompanied every one of his steps was conspicuously absent from this step, the floorboards beneath his foot sagged from the weight.

He retreated a step and knelt on the dusty floor. He knocked on the spot his foot had been, marked by an absence of dust in the shape of a boot print, a hollow boom followed. Finding the edge of a board, he began pulling up floorboards until there was an opening large enough for him to go through. He could not imagine why this would be there, it seemed to be an underground tunnel. Perhaps escape routes had been more common in homes of the time than he had thought. A candle sat on a low shelf near him. He light its ancient wick with a match, which he still found quite amazing, from the complementary box at the hotel. Once alight he lowered it into the hole, the flame did not quaver.

Lowering himself, candle and all, his feet connected lightly with the floor after less than a foot drop. The light illuminated a long corridor of clean huen earthen walls. As he walked forward he found an opening in the wall, blocked by a thick wooden door, which contained pieces from several different varieties of tree. He tested the door and found it to be locked. Walking on a little ways he found more doors all locked or stuck fast. Suddenly the sensation of another presence came over Ichabod and he turned. Near the now far end of the corridor, just on the boundary of the candlelight's reach, the figure of a woman in a long white gown began to walk slowly toward him. "Katrina!" He called to the ghostly and familiar figure, as he ran towards her. He met her at the first door, without looking at him or acknowledging his presence the figure turned and walked through the locked door.

He pushed on the door which swung open easily to reveal a small earthen room furnished with various entirely intact items. A rocking chair sat in one corner close by a bookcase. One book in particular caught his attention, Katrina's favorite book, inside a letter, the letter that would have been received by her upon the occasion of his death. On the other side of the room were a few tables, all covered in different containers of supplies ranging from food to mysterious necessities of witchcraft; a large wooden chest; a bed and beside it a much smaller bed, on the latter of which a doll sat. On the bedside table there were two pictures; one was their wedding portrait, the other of a girl of about three clutching the doll that now lay on the tiny bed.

Sitting down upon the larger bed in a state of confused shock, his mind unable to process into a coherent thought all the information contained in this room. Eventually a single word made its way through his head and out his mouth. "Baby." Could it be possible that at the time of his death Katrina had been with-child?

"Ichabod." He turned his head to find Katrina standing near the bookshelves. He jumped up from the bed, the portrait of the girl still in his hands. "I can't stay long. But you must understand."

"We have a daughter?"

"Yes, Abigail."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know when I buried you that I was with-child. And in saving you I had angered my coven. For awhile I was able to hide in Europe. In the final days I found sanctuary at Lachlan's home, where Abigail was born. Within minutes of her birth the coven came to the door demanding that Lachlan bring me out. He told them that we were in sanctuary and were safe as long as we were on the property. I stayed there for about a year. Abigail would play with Grace, housekeeper's, children. Lachlan aided me in casting protective charms over this house, especially these underground rooms. But something went wrong."

"What? Katrina, what happened?"

"I'm sorry, Ichabod, I'm out of time." She began to fade rom the room.

"Katrina, no, wait!" He yelled stretching out his hand to hold her there, but she had already disappeared.

Later, long after the sun had fully set, Ichabod was sitting at the ancient kitchen table wondering what could possibly have happened to his wife and daughter. His thoughts were interrupted by a beam of searching light. "Crane, that you?"

"Leftenant?" The approaching Lefteniant Mills came into the lamp's light.

"We should get out of here, this place looks like it about to fall down."

"It has stood since 1778, I have no reason to believe it will not continue to do so."

"How do you..?"

"That was the year in which I built it."

"You mean this was your house?"

"Indeed."

"Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I talked with Katrina. I... I... I... have a daughter."

"What? You?" Ichabod's face remained in its worried expression. "What's wrong?"

"Something happened to them. Are there any old houses still standing in Sleepy Hollow?"

"The oldest would be the Old Fredricks House, I suppose."

"Come, Leftenant, that's where we're going." He jumped up from his seat and headed to the door with a quick determination.

"Why are we-" Abbie hurried to keep up.

"Lachlan Fredricks. He was the owner of the house during the revolution, a friend of mine and Katrina's. And, according to what Katrina told me, a warlock."

"Crane. You may be willing to walk across town, but I'm not. Get in the car." He conceded and climbed into the car parked on the street. "So why are we going?"

"Lachlan's home was a sanctuary for any who wished protection. All the workers who lived there were free men and women and stayed there of their own will. Katrina's coven was after her, she knew that she could find aid and shelter there. That's where she went and that's where our daughter was born."

"Okay."

"Turn here."

"No, I stay straight."

"No, you turn here. Only an uncivilized mongrel would enter a governor's drive through the exit. Turn."

Abbie let out a sigh of exasperation. "Yes, Sir." She turned the car.

"It's also faster this way." They soon pulled up in front of an overgrown manor, standing in a condition only a little better than Ichabod's own home. "How could this house have fallen into such a state of decrepitude? It was once one of the grandest households in the area."

"Well, I think the family died out in 1813 when the last Fredrick male died in the War of 1812 and his sister married into some wealthy family in New Jersey. So it's been abandoned since then."

"Let us continue then."

"What exactly are we looking for here?"

"I'm not certain. But whatever it be it's here."

Abbie tested the doorknob. "Locked. Don't suppose this friend of your's gave you a key."

"Even if he had I doubt the lock would not have been changed."

"Would it be some great offense to etiquette if I were to just knock down the door?"

"If there were people living here, greatly so. But as it is, go ahead." She proceeded to knock the door inward, and together they entered the house.

"So if we see anything out of the ordinary..."

"Yes, that's what we're looking for. Anything out of the ordinary." They split up as they continued into the house.

"You know, Crane, when I was a kid we thought this place was haunted."

"Really? When I was a child this was newly built, and England was fighting the Seven Years War." As they separated further into the the house the heavy atmosphere of the passed years weighed on them both.

Ichabod walked through the rooms that had been the public rooms, the style of the furnishings in which were as foreign to him as the modern world outside. "Times have changed, Ichabod." He looked up from his revory to see the figure of Lachlan Fredrick standing in front of a window. "Even my house is no longer as it appeared during the revolution."

"Lachlan, what became Katrina?"

"Ah... Yes."

As Abbie moved towards a hallway lined in bedrooms she heard footsteps nearby. "Crane? That you?" She called. When no reply came she took out her gun and held it in a prepatory fashion. "It's not haunted. Not haunted." Another footstep. "Crane?" She called somewhat freightend.

"Shhhh." The sound came from a black woman clothed in colonial garb, standing in front of a door a finger to her lips accompanying the sound. As Abbie gazed at the strange sight of the woman, she silently beckoned her closer with a waving motion of her hand. Obeying Abbie approached the door before which the woman stood. The woman turned and walked through the door which opened as she passed through it. When Abbie crossed the threshold of the room sound filled the room as though the sound barrier had snapped. Upon the bed Ichabod's wife, Katrina, lay screaming from the pain of childbirth. The woman who had led Abbie into the room was acting as midwife, her orders to the other younger women in the room and her speech to Katrina muffled by the latter's cries. In the same moment that Katrina's screams ceased a high pitched and wailing cry began. The woman held, partially wrapped in a blanket, a newborn baby. "It's a girl, Mrs. Crane, a little baby girl." She said, fully wrapping the baby girl and presenting her to Katrina.

"Thank you, Grace." Katrina said taking her daughter into her arms. "Hello, little one!" Her face was alight with a glow of joy and a smile crossed her sweaty face as she gazed at the little bundle. "If only Ichabod could be here." The baby cooed, looking with wide eyes at her mother.

"What's her name gonna be?"

"Abigail. For she would be a joy to her father." A loud knocking from the door echoed through the house. All the people in the room froze and fell silent, even the baby was silent. Voices from outside could be heard, but understood, through the window. Katrina clutched the baby protectively to her chest while the woman, Grace, hurriedly shut the draperies of the window. The people vanished, all that remained in the room was a wardrobe and the detreiorated bedstead.

Ichabod stood facing Lachlan expectantly. "You have a daughter. I don't know if you that." Ichabod nodded. "Katrina came here to deliver the child. Within minutes of the girl's birth the coven appeared at my door." Lachlan's voice faded off as Ichabod's vision shifted to the window behind the man. Visible through the panes was the doorstoop. A small crowd of women gathered there, Lachlan appeared before them. Sound returned to the vision. "What do you want."

"We want Katrina Crane, bring her out to us." The apparent leader of the coven ordered.

"This property is a sanctuary. All who come here seeking safety are granted it. She is under my protection as long as she dwells here."

"And what is to stop us entering now and taking her. She is weak from childbirth and will not resist us."

"I will. My protection controls this place, you shall not pass through that door. Nor shall you return here. Now go."

"Go we shall. But you can not protect the woman forever. And when she leaves we shall find her." With that threat the vision dissolved and only Lachlan stood before Ichabod.

"You see, Ichabod, I tried to keep Katrina safe. She remained here with the girl, Abigail she called her, for three years. After which I aided her casting similar protective charms around your home. Occasionally Grace and I would check on her, to see how she was doing. One day neither she nor the girl were there. I know not what happened to them, but I believe that the coven finally found her. My deepest appologies and sympathies. Perhaps this will be of aid to you." He flicked his hand, from a nearby room the thud of a fallen object came. Then he disappeared. Ichabod then approached the door from which the sound had originated. On the floor, beneath a shelf was a book, within which was what appeared to be records of all those who had come to the estate seeking sanctuary.

The two remaining presences within the house eventually found each other and exited the long abandoned house. Neither talked until they were in the car, Ichabod holding the book of records.

"What's that?" Abbie asked referring to the book.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**

Suspect Motive

Chapter 2

Lieutenant Mills sat at a table in the vault, studying the book from the Fredrick's house. "Crane, look at this."

"Yes, Leftenant?" He said moving over to Abbie.

"It looks like someone kept up this book after the house was abandoned. The last entry is from 1867."

"That is indeed odd." He said approaching the desk at which she sat. Looking over her shoulder, he inspected the page.

"It would seem that the house took in wounded soldiers and some going home."

In the back of the book a corner of paper, heavier and more yellowed than those of the book, had dislodged from among the other pages. Ichabod pulled it out. " As is this."

"What is it?"

"A family tree, beginning with Grace."

"The Fredicks' housekeeper?"

"Yes. Look how far it continues" He commented handing it to Abbie.

"That's well past the last inhabitants of the house. And look at the handwriting, the later names are written the same way as the first few."

Ichabod had been looking at the back of the paper intently then went over to the table where the book lay.

"Crane what are you doing?"

"There's ink marks on the back of that paper which means there was another behind it." After flipping through the pages he pulled out another loose page. He skimmed it quickly then stopped dead at the bottom of the page. "Leftenant, is your firstname Grace?"

"Yeah. How do you..?" She turned inquisitively to face him. He was holding the new page out to her that the continued family tree was visible. She got up and took the paper from him. Beside her name, Grace Abigail Mills, was that of Jennifer Mills. She was a part of this family tree; she was therefore descended from Grace, the housekeeper of Fredrick's Manor who had delivered Ichaod's daughter. "Ichabod."

"I found something equally odd in the ledger." He was gazing intently at the last used pages of the ledger, and continued without providing a response. "All these later entries are in Lachlan's hand. See, its exactly the ame as in the beginning.."

"Ichabod."

"Yes, Leftenant?"

"Does this really mean what I think it mans, that I'm...?" Ichabod nodded silently. "Shouldn't we go back to Fredrick Manor?"

"No, I need answers from Katrina. I need to know what happened." His face was hard with detrimination. She hoever also needed answers and those could not be found in the old Crane home.

"Well, I'm going back. see you tomorrow then." She got up, taking the book and the papers with her, and immediately returned to Fredrick Manor in her car. It seemed as though there had appeared two paths which seemed to be leading them away from eachother. Upon entering she sat own in an ancient armchair the book in her lap. There she waited for Grace.

"You wish to speak to me? I was expecting you."

"Am I actually..?"

"One of my descendants, yes, by my eldest daughter. Infact the latest in the line of eldest daughters which intitles you to something else." She waved her hand and the thud of a book falling from the nearby shelves echoed while the book skidded across the floor to Abblie's feet. "You see Mister Lachlan was not the only one in this house who had powers. That book was passed to me by my mother, it contains a form of magic from her home country."

"And this is mine now?"

"Yes it is."

"Why are you still here?" Abbie inquired.

"A few years after Katrina's baby was born, the Coven of the Radiant Heart came here in search of them. Lachlan tried to diswage their efforts. His attempts only served to anger them. They cast a curse upon this house that kept him and his powers from ever leaving the sanctuary of his own home, I was caught in this as well. And so it is that we remain in this place and care for any who come for safety."

"You aand he continue the ledger."

"Take the book, darling, you may have use for it sooner than you think." Now, go." Abbie got to her feet and made her way out onto the grave driveway. Looking back to the house she saw two figures in the front window. Then she hurriedly went to where she suspected Crane to be. She thought she now had some knowledge to give him that would prove useful.

Meanwhile Ichabod took off on foot the remains of his old home. Making his way down the passage to the room where he had seen Katrina, he sat on the bed and waited. It was not until the yet ghostly figure of Katrina appeared seated beside him. "Hello, Ichabod. You wished to speak tp me no doubt.""What happened, Katrina? what happened to you and our... our daughter Abigail?"

"Lachlan and Grace would come to check on us regularly. There came a time when they hadn't come for so long, I thought to go see them. It was the first time we had left the safety of this place. I brought Abigail with me, reluctant to leave her alone, we wore protective amulets to aid in disguise our presence. The coven was laying in wait for us just outside of Lachlan's home. I wasn't able to fend all of them off."

"But, Lachlan?"

"They must have done something to keep him from aiding me. He didn't come out, he just watched from a window. I was defeated, they locked us away in Purgatory."

"So she's with you at least?"

"No." She hid her face in her hands and sobs continued to rack her semi-transparent body as she went on. "We somehow became separted. Oh, Ichabod! I lost her, I lost our baby girl!" She reached for him and he for her, yet as they touched in an embrace the substance of her began to fade.

"Katrina!"

"I'm soory, Ichabod" She appear as but the lightest whisp of smoke before him.

"Katrina!" He was once again alone in the chamber. Standng and beginning to pace his head swam with more questions than answers. Gradually he noticed a small sound from nearby his former position. Looking in that direction he saw a very young girl, in child's dress from the time of the revolution, seated on the small bed. She rocked back and forth, holding tightly to the doll which had lain upon the pillow, crying with tears streaking down her pink face. Interjected among the sobs were pleas for her momma.

"Momma? Where are you, Momma? Momma!" She cried falling back into tears.

"Ichabod knelt down next to the bed. "Its alright, sweety, you'll be alright." She didn't seem to be able to hear him, lost in her own world. "Just hold on my darling girl." By simply looking at the young girl, Ichabod could tell her identity. She had his own lighter hair and Katrina's eyes her features were a soft youthful mixture of theirs.

"Crane!" Leftenant Mills' voice drew the child out of herself.

With an intake of reath the little girl began fading quickly, fear evident on her face, the doll fel onto the bed. "No, Abigail, wait!"

"I gather you weren't talking to me." Lleftenant Mills asked entering the chamber.

"No I was not."

"Did you talk to Katrina?"

"Yes."

"And what else?" She asked.

"My daughter. They're not togetherthere. There's a three year old lost alone in Purgatory." Abbie placed a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Did you speak with Grace?"

"Yeah, and I think I've got something that might be helpful."

"What might that e, a witch?"

"Possibly something of the kind, I'm really not sure yet."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She gave me this book, it apparently holds magicspells."

"Brought over from Africa nodoubt. We should go ack to the vault and get a ggod loook at that book."

"Okay." Crane went through the door and down the corridor.. Somewhat taken aback by the suddenness of Crane's leap to action Abbie was late in following. At her first step after him, her way was impeded by the sudden apparition of Katrina, directly in her path.

"You look just like her, you know."

"Like who?"

"Grace." Looking at the book Abbie still held, she continued. "It would seem that your appearance is not the only thing the two of you share."

"You mean this?" Abbie asked holding out the book.

"Every land has its own form and name for a weilder of magic. For most the power goes hand-in-hand with healing."

"So, I'm a witch?"

"Yes and no. This form requires some magical ability but most of the power is held within the words themselves. With the form contained here the correct term would be something similar to medicine-woman."

"How do you-"

"Leftenant!"

"Remember, despite what you may have heard, covens never fully disappear. Look after him." Katrina said in farewell as she began quickly fading.

"There you are. Haven't you moved? Come on."


End file.
